


Offensive Interference

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Friday Night Lights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-20
Updated: 2008-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 02:00:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1625618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coach Taylor needs some lovin', but life isn't cooperating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Offensive Interference

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jules

 

 

Football makes Eric Taylor happy. It also makes him sad, angry, hungry, melancholy, reflective, energetic, frustrated--every emotion known to man can be found for him in football.

Tonight, though, it's made him horny. Not unusual after hours of intense focus and physical exertion. Lately he's resigned himself to waiting a good long time before he can do anything about it, with Tami tired and nursing, and the house full of unaccustomed people, namely Shelly. But as he walks in tonight, he notices an unusual sound.

Silence.

He passes the silent living room, rounds the corner into the family room. It's empty, the TV off. "Honey?" he ventures, and continues hesitantly, almost afraid someone will jump out at him, or that he'll find something awful in the kitchen. He doesn't find something awful. He finds Tami. She's standing next to the refrigerator holding a can of Coke, with a blissful smile on her face. "Isn't that nice?" she says quietly.

He approaches her cautiously, still afraid something is amiss. "What, honey?"

"It's quiet." She closes her eyes and seems to breathe in the silence, then leans into him as he moves to hug her hello.

"Where is everybody?" he asks.

"Shelly's out, Julie went to meet some friends to study, and Gracie Bell? Well, she's having the longest, quietest nap she's had since she came into this world." She speaks carefully, as if afraid to break the spell.

Eric chuckles and leans into her, catching her mouth in a soft kiss. She tastes sweet, like Coke, and he can smell Gracie's baby smell on her blouse. "We're all alone?"

"Yeah, honey, we are."

He chuckles again, and this time it's deeper, lower in his chest, and maybe a little wicked. He feels wicked. Tami's milk-full breasts strain against the cotton of her blouse, and his body is firmly at attention. Glancing over his shoulder, as if not trusting they're truly alone, he palms her gently. There's a damp patch over her nipple, and she swats at him as he slides his thumb over it.

"What?" he says, not drawing away. "All alone..." He dips his head in for another kiss. She starts to push him away, but then she doesn't; instead she cups a hand at the back of his neck and pulls him closer, opens her mouth to him.

He angles his hips against her, rubbing tentatively, then a little harder when she continues to respond. Then he grunts, surprised and gratified, because she's clamped her hand between his legs and is stroking the ridge behind his zipper and she's got her tongue in his mouth and they're groping each other like horny teenagers in the back seat of a car-- 

"OH my GOD!" Eric leaps back, and he can feel his dick shrink--hell, he thinks it might have actually just disappeared--at the shriek of his daughter's voice. "I am going to go POKE my own EYES out now. I hope you can AFFORD my THERAPY!" 

Eric can't bring himself to look behind him for fear he might actually look at Julie, so instead, chagrined, he looks at Tami, who erupts into gales of laughter, half bent-over with her ass against the refrigerator so he can see right down her blouse, between the heavy, rounded globes of her breasts, and maybe his dick reappears and takes notice, but he can't do anything about it now, so he finally turns around and goes to the garage to watch game tapes.

#

He settles in, watching, making notes, muttering to himself, occasionally shifting his chinos around so they don't pinch his erection, which has returned from wherever it had hidden just to torment him. After the first few minutes, he's involved enough in his work to ignore it. 

"Now, you said you were gonna be gone til eight." He's left the door open a bit so he can hear if Tami needs him with Gracie, and he hears her talking, steady and logical, from the family room. "You come home when you say you're gonna be studying and I can't really be held responsible for what you walk in on, now can I?"

"I forgot my notebook," Julie answers. "And that was just gross."

There's a laugh in Tami's voice when she responds. "I didn't think so."

"Ew," says Julie. "Just... ew." The door to her bedroom closes, not quite a slam, and there's silence again.

Tami chuckles, and Eric can't help but chuckle, as well. He leans back in his chair, hits pause to see if Smash Williams is really doing what he thinks he's doing on the sidelines--that's gonna have to stop cause it's just damn rude--then he hears a creak and looks up.

Tami's standing in the doorway, eyeing him with her head tilted to one side, smiling. "She's in her bedroom now," she says quietly, and takes the last step over the threshold, pulling the door shut behind her.

Eric blinks up at her. He figured the earlier attempt was his last-ditch effort for the day. There'd been a lot of, "Not tonight," and, "I'm tired," and, "Touch me and I'll kill you," over the months since Gracie had been born, and he was, at this point, gun shy. Maybe, he thought, looking at Tami's sultry gray gaze and her tongue tracing her bottom lip, he'd been a little too quick to give up this time. 

"Yeah?" he says, because all his blood has rushed to his dick and it's the only word he can manage to form.

She smiles. "Yeah."

He can only sit there and stare as she sashays across the room to him, turns his chair to face her, and spreads her legs to straddle his lap. His hands rise of their own volition and clasp her waist, which is fortunate because he has no brainpower to make them move. Leaning forward, she strokes his lips with her tongue, making a soft sound in the back of her throat.

"You are a very handsome man, Coach Taylor, did you know that?"

He slides his hands up her back. "And you're a beautiful woman, Mrs. Taylor."

She licks into his mouth. "You just said it cause I said it first, so it doesn't count."

"It does so count--" But it's hard to be affronted when she pushes his polo shirt up until her long fingers find his hard nipple and do things to it that make him want to cry, it feels so good.

"Oh, God," he manages, and she laughs a smoky laugh. Shifting on his lap, she rubs across his re-energized erection.

"You like that, Coach?" Her lips move right against his, and she teases his nipple again. "You like that a lot, don't you?"

He opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, he hears the front door open. "Hey, guys, I'm home!"

It's Shelly, and she's too loud, and right then Gracie starts crying, and Eric lets his head fall back against his chair. 

"Shee-yit."

#

He finishes watching his game tapes while Tami feeds Gracie, chats a bit with Shelly. Female laughter drifts in from the other room, Shelly's high and strident--well, maybe not, but he's resentful enough of her presence at the moment that it sounds that way to him--Tami's low and husky and full of sex and yeah, maybe that's him projecting, too. He jots down the last of his notes, closes his notebook and rubs his face. Time to give up and go to bed, he thinks. He slouches back to the bedroom, climbs in the shower. As the hot water sluices down over him, he decides he's just too plain annoyed to jerk off. 

So he's still edgy and uncomfortable when he gets out and towels off, and it's not until he's done brushing his teeth that he realizes the house has gone quiet again.

He pads out of the bathroom in his boxers, hardly daring to hope...but there she is, curled up in bed, and she's still awake. Still, maybe he's assuming too much. But as he slides under the blankets next to her, his body meets warm skin, and there's no nightgown, and--

She rolls toward him and smiles, and lays a finger against his lips. "Quiet," she says. "Everything's quiet."

"Thank God," he mumbles back, then doesn't say anything else because she's kissing him, and her hand pushes his boxers down and wraps around his cock, and she rolls him over her, and he's up and inside, and warm, and home. 

 


End file.
